Ablutions
by heartsways
Summary: Emma and Regina in the shower. That's it. That's the story.


**Title:** Ablutions  
**Author: **heartsways  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Fandom: **Once Upon A Time  
**Pairing:** Regina/Emma  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.  
**Summary: ** Regina and Emma in the shower. That's it. That's the story. Based on a 5 sentence fic and written under tumblr peer pressure. Kidding. I switched out one of the lines from the mini-fic. I don't think anyone will honestly care…

Emma's in the middle of shampooing her hair when a rush of cold air and the opening of the huge, glass door to the shower cubicle makes her start in surprise. She opens her eyes and blinks open-mouthed at Regina, who merely smiles at her as Emma backs up against the wall of the shower, wincing as her buttocks hit the cold marble tiles.

"Whoa, hey, what do you think you're doing?" she blurts, squinting as a soapy trail begins to make its way down her forehead from her half-washed hair.

Regina shrugs, an implacable expression on her face. She steps under the spray from the showerhead and turns her face up towards the hot water for a minute, letting it sluice down over her, plastering her hair to her skull.

"I see your powers of observation are as sharp as usual," she observes, glancing sideways at Emma's shocked expression and not even trying to resist the way her mouth curves into a satisfied smirk. "I'm taking a shower, dear, what does it look like?"

"It looks like you're invading my personal space," Emma splutters, moving forwards and shoving Regina out of the way so she can rinse her hair. She rubs furiously at it for a few seconds before she wipes soap from her face and turns to see Regina watching her with a dark gaze, surrounded by steam, droplets of water rolling down her skin.

"What?" Emma demands, pushing wet hair back from her brow and glaring at the other woman.

Regina's eyebrows rise a little, but she's still wearing that look she has where Emma tends to end up feeling like an idiot, kind of like she does right now. Because they're standing naked in the shower and it's too early after a late night for her to want anything but a hot shower and coffee and to avoid the awkward conversation that always comes after she's spent the night with someone.

Although Regina's hardly a _someone_, Emma tells herself. But it's still far too soon in their relationship for them to be showering together like this is their morning routine.

_Oh god_, she thinks. She's having a relationship with the _Evil Queen_. With the mother of her _son_. It's easy to forget things like that when Regina's head is thrown back and her body is arching, quivering like a strung bow and she's not evil, not a mother, not anything but _Regina_.

"Personal space," Regina repeats, moving up beside Emma so that they're both standing under the hard stream of water. "Considering what you and I did last night, don't you think that's a touch laughable?"

Emma glowers as Regina reaches for the shower gel, squeezes some into the palm of one hand and begins smoothing it up and down her arm, fingers sliding over her shoulder. The scent of it fills the shower cubicle and Emma tamps down on her desire to step closer to Regina and inhale deeply. There's something about the way the other woman's skin smells that is intoxicating and Emma is suddenly beset with memories of the previous night, where she'd spent hours following the curves of Regina's body with her fingers and tongue. And that scent – the indefinable, fruity perfume that's filling the shower – was as heady as the taste of Regina herself.

"I'm not – not laughing," Emma states in as stoic a manner as she can. But _dammit_, Regina is _naked_ and wet, her skin shining and covered in that stupid, amazing shower gel that's leaving suds all up and down her body.

"Well, you're always complaining that we never do anything together other than fall into bed," Regina says, turning so that water trickles down over her back and rolls into the small of her back, which Emma remembers being a particularly sensitive erogenous zone.

"It's not complaining," Emma protests, and hears an irritatingly condescending chuckle come from Regina that rises above the sound of the water streaming down around them. "It's **not**," she adds. "We're both a bit past dating, don't you think?"

"No need to sound so disappointed about it," Regina retorts, and glances back over her shoulder at Emma. "Do be a dear and wash my back, won't you?"

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Emma moves in behind Regina and puts her hands onto the other woman's shoulders. They slide easily over skin, slick with soap, and as she moves them downwards, Emma hears Regina breathe a sigh of shiveringly delicious appreciation. She even presses herself backwards against Emma's touch and, for a second, Emma feels lust rise in the pit of her stomach.

Then she grunts and digs in hard with her thumbs just below Regina's ribcage, eliciting a surprised noise that brings a faint smirk to her mouth.

"Jesus, Regina," Emma mutters, massaging the soap into Regina's skin with increasing vigor. "Why the hell do you have to be so irresistible?"

"It's a skill," Regina counters, but there's a pleased tone to her voice that resonates in Emma's ears. Regina turns around and lifts a hand to Emma's face, cupping her cheek in a palm. It's intimate enough to make Emma quiver a little, because in the rise and fall of their bodies in bed, passion has always outweighed moments like this. But now, as she gazes into Regina's eyes, Emma understands that sleeping over, allowing the Savior's arms to encircle her and waking in their embrace is about as close to intimacy as Regina can possibly get. Maybe it's that she's forgotten how to feel it, or maybe it's that she's worked hard to eradicate it from her demeanor; either way, it's clear that behind Regina's trite comments and confident exterior, there's something else just waiting to make itself known.

"Hm," Regina says, her gaze roaming down the slender lines of Emma's neck then further down, to where the swell of her breasts curves outwards, tipped by nipples that are even now starting to harden. "I'd say you have your own distinct set of charms too."

"Yeah?" Emma says, as Regina's thumb drags a damp line across her cheek. "Is that a compliment?"

Regina laughs and it's soft and beautiful and wonderful. Emma swallows as the other woman leans in and places a gentle kiss onto her lips before patting her gently on the shoulder.

"Your turn," Regina says, reaching for the shower gel and nodding her head towards Emma.

There's steel in Regina's fingertips as she works on the muscles just below Emma's neck, pinching and circling her way out towards Emma's shoulders. The blonde can barely suppress the groan that rises in her throat as all the kinks she didn't even know she had are worked out and smoothed away by the simple application of soap, water and a touch that Emma leans back into.

"There," Regina says quietly, her lips close to Emma's ear, "doesn't that feel good?"

"Oh…god…" Emma forces out as two hard nipples brush against her back and Regina's body seems to fit so perfectly against her own. "Oh yeah, that's…that's…"

"An invasion of your personal space?" Regina suggests, amusement dancing in her tone. Her hands skate over Emma's shoulders, pushing beneath her arms and sliding around the blonde's waist as she pulls Emma back against her.

Now Emma laughs and lets her head loll back onto Regina's shoulder. "Something like that," she concurs, her voice deepening as she feels questing fingers on her torso slipping upwards to gently cup her breasts. It's only when two thumbs flick over her nipples that she lets out another groan; this time it's borne of latent desire and not simply pleasure.

She can feel Regina's mouth on her neck, lips and tongue sucking at her skin, nipping it gently as whatever doubt they might have is washed away by the water cascading down over their bodies. Emma's hands fly up to cover Regina's and she feels the other woman's hips begin to circle gently against her buttocks, pressing with the tiniest insistence at the same time that Regina begins to pinch her nipples.

The water from above rains down on her face as Emma turns it upwards, straining back against Regina's body and she reaches blindly behind her, curling her fingers around Regina's hips and digging them into soft, pliant flesh. Regina's finger and thumb close around each nipple in turn, pressing down hard enough to make Emma writhe and let out several agonized gasps, and then they are twisted, tugged, pulled with such vicious pleasure that a few high-pitched cries echo in the shower cubicle before they're engulfed by the steam rising around them.

Regina's mouth finds the tender flesh that stretches a line from the base of Emma's neck out to muscles that are flexing wildly, and she bares her teeth, biting down on it with alacrity. Emma yells and bucks her hips away from Regina's but the persistent pressure on her nipples, teasing them to blisteringly aching hard points, soon brings her body crashing back against the other woman's.

She can't stand this much longer. There's a growing ache between her legs that is _all_ Regina's fault, Emma thinks almost angrily. Because she's confined this sort of thing to the nights that they spend together; she's been able to rationalize what they're doing down to some sort of dark, undercover activity that neither of them are able to really talk about in the cold light of day. And even when Emma _has_ suggested they do something other than tear at one another's clothes and lose themselves in the physical, lust-soaked sex that gives them a release nothing else can, she's regretted it. Even if Regina Mills _does_ go on dates, she probably doesn't do it with people like Emma Swan. And the Evil Queen wouldn't be seen dead in the company of the Savior unless they were daggers drawn at one another's throats.

So Emma is almost resentful by the time Regina's teeth close on her neck once more and those fingers begin to roll her nipples around between them. Regina has a way of expertly drawing that fine line between pleasure and pain, and it's this that keeps Emma returning to her; it's also this that makes her teeter on it, wanting one and craving the other. She might be a lot of things to a lot of people, but to Emma, Regina is a cruel mistress and a slavish servant all at the same time when it comes to sex. It's addictive; it's nonsensical how much Emma wants it. Wants _her_.

Growling in frustration, Emma reaches up and grasps hold of Regina's hands, tearing them from her body and forcing them down between her legs. In the end, she doesn't really care about whether this is an invasion of anything that she might have wanted to keep for herself. Because she's in too deep now to ever truly be without it, or to be alone again. She parts her legs as Regina bends behind her and Emma knows that she's soaking wet where it counts, where it always drives her insane if she can't have Regina's hands on her.

Regina makes a noise of pure greed as her fingers slide inside Emma, into the hot, wet heat that greets her caress. One of her arms curls around the blonde as she pushes herself forwards, tugging Emma back at the same time. They're close, but never close enough. There's a hunger to Regina's touch that is borne of emotional famine and physical starvation. She thrusts deeper inside and hears a faint whine of response as the other woman trembles in her embrace.

Sometimes Regina wants to tear Emma apart when she's like this: vulnerable and open and completely unguarded. Sometimes the killer instinct surges through her veins and heats her blood so much that she can almost feel it trickling through her body the same way that the water is running in rivulets over her skin. Her fingers stiffen, moving in and out of Emma with an increasing pace, harder and more unforgiving now. Her nails scrape against flesh that clenches around her touch and Regina's arm tightens, gripping Emma against her so firmly that she can feel the outline of Emma's ribs against her wrist.

Oh yes, the temptation to ruin this woman is within reach, just as Emma is. And it's thick and black and sticky, made of all the failures that Regina has endured; all the disappointments yet to come. Gritting her teeth, Regina is relentless and she can't help letting out a wicked little laugh as Emma squirms and pushes forwards with her hips.

Then she says Regina's name. It's hardly there at all, little more than a whisper that's almost drowned out by the thunderous water. But Regina hears it. No, it's more than that. She _feels_ it. Feels the way Emma's body tenses in her grasp; feels the way that flesh encloses around her fingers and how the other woman's chest heaves, rising and falling as they both fall deeper into this chasm that's opened up beneath their feet.

The intensity of hatred dissipates, running away to deeper waters that Regina simply can't navigate alone anymore. What's left is desire, lust, a wanton greed for something that seems to be more than a tantalizing sum of its parts. And as she pushes further inside Emma, curling the tips of her fingers around into the fleshy pad that makes Emma cry out, Regina knows that destroying what she loves isn't nearly as terrifyingly wondrous as nurturing it.

She needs this as much, if not more, than Emma does.

"Come for me," Regina urges, pushing her mouth close to Emma's ear, the tip of her tongue flickering over skin, teeth biting down on Emma's earlobe. "Come for me."

Emma gulps, tasting water on her lips, smelling that scent that will always remind her of Regina, hearing the other woman's voice husked and wanting. She arches her back, thrusting herself down onto Regina's fingers in a frantic effort to reach climax before her legs give way. She's panting and trembling and _god_, whatever Regina's doing with her hand is so _fucking_ amazing that Emma wonders if she'll ever be able to do without it. It's funny how she hasn't once considered that she might not have to because everything ends, doesn't it? Everything fades away and disappears and she intends to hold onto this for as long as she –

She can't. Can't hold on. Can't keep this moment thrumming and aching and burning in her chest for much longer. Because Regina is against her now, inside her now, all around her and it's just too much, _too_ much and _so_ much that it's overwhelming.

When the tide rushes over her, Emma jerks forwards in a series of sputtering little movements that jangle sensation up and down her body, spiraling a buzzing hum that works its way out from her pelvis to envelop her entire body. She opens her mouth, draws in a few short, fractured breaths and holds them until her lungs feel like they're going to explode. Then a long, unbroken, sighing, groaning sound of relief emerges over her lips and she sinks into Regina's embrace, the solidity of the other woman providing a buffer against the uncontrollable shuddering that follows.

Trying to control her heart that's sending a maddening whoosh of sound inside her brain, Emma hears Regina chuckle somewhere at the back of everything. But the sound is muffled against her skin as Regina drags her lips up over Emma's shoulder, up to where her neck is clammy and hot. Soft lips settle in the hollow just beneath her ear, and Regina's tongue swirls in something that's proprietorial and tender all at once, tasting the diluted tang of sweat that's gathered there.

"The water's going to run cold," Regina murmurs, hearing Emma gasp a little as she withdraws her fingers and curls her other arm around the blonde, holding her in place, holding her steady, just _holding_ her.

"Good," Emma groans, closing her eyes and leaning back against Regina's body. "I thought I wanted a hot shower. Turns out I need a cold one instead."

"That's what happens when you let someone invade your personal space," Regina says wryly, reaching for the ornate faucet to turn the shower off and force them to return to their everyday lives where they pretend to ignore one another and what they've done.

A hand over her own stops her and she turns to see Emma looking at her with a narrowed gaze. Sometimes it feels like all they've done since the start of everything has been to invade one another's space, one another's lives. But they've done it in ways that aren't simply pushed aside and both women share a tacit look of understanding before Emma smiles gently, pulling Regina against her.

"What are you doing?" Regina frowns, because this wasn't part of the plan she'd had when she woke up and Emma was gone. And it's just like the Savior to ruin every plot and scheme; it's just like Emma to shatter the illusion of control that Regina's carefully created over the last thirty years.

"There's still some hot water left," Emma tells her, running her fingertips lightly over Regina's skin, dipping down to sweep over the curve of a breast and linger on a pleasingly hardening nipple. "And we're gonna need it."

"Oh?" Regina's voice is grated, filled with a graveled expectation that lies in the way Emma looks at her and moves closer. Even in ruination, she thinks, there's glory. Some sort of reward from the detritus of what she's become. "And why's that?"

Emma plants her hands onto Regina's shoulders and roughly shoves her back against the wall of the cubicle, smirking at the tiny squeak of air that flies from Regina's mouth.

"Because a shower's where you come to get clean," Emma leans in, her mouth fastening firmly over one nipple, teeth scraping over the tip of it before she lets it slide from her mouth with a satisfying pop. "And we're gonna get very, **very** dirty."


End file.
